Melancholy
by Alleyprowler
Summary: What would you do when you have been programmed since adolecence? 3+5, 1+2, 4+?. Complete.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: The Mobile Suit: Gundam Wing characters used within this story are © Bandai, Sotsu Agency, Sunrise, etc. This work of fiction is intended for free entertainment purposes only. It is not suitable for readers under the age of 13.**  
**Title:** Melancholy, part 1/?  
**Author:** Alleyprowler  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Pairings:** 1x2, 3x5  
**Warnings:** Angst, language, adult themes, shifting POV. Suicide references, but not a deathfic.

**December 15, AC 199**

I sit down on the window seat of my favorite room in our house, which happens to be my bedroom, and I look out the window at the seascape that I love so much. The other guys don't know why I took this small and rather dingy room as my own, but then again, I don't think any of them have sat in this particular spot and watched the tides come and go. I have. In fact, that's about all I've been doing for the last three days or so, ever since I got finished with my last bit of work.

Oh yes, my work. My raison d'être. The things I was brought up to do practically since birth. You see, the original plan was that I was going to be the groomed, pampered, cultured heir to the Winner corporation, uphold the peace and prosperity of the Colonies, and eventually settle down with some equally groomed, pampered and cultured girl and raise a huge family to continue the legacy while I worked myself to an early grave.

What a cruel fucking joke.

I am temperamentally unsuited for the job that I was born to do, and I'd known it ever since I was about 11 years old and met the Maguanac Corps. It just wasn't in me. Well, aside from the peace and prosperity of the Colonies bit, of course. I risked my worthless life time and time again trying to unite the Earth and the Colonies under one government, or at least one creed. I wonder even now if I hadn't been merely trying to kill myself in some socially acceptable way.

I guess I didn't become totally honest with my motives until the incident with the Zero system. Allah. If I live to be 100 (which I won't), I will never forgive myself for building that monstrosity. That damned thing made me realize that the line between enemy and ally is foggy at best; non-existent at worst. My neat little black-and-white world was shattered on the day my father and sister died, and was completely annihilated on the day I stepped into Wing Zero and began taking people out…

I need to calm down. My hands are shaking, and that won't do. I don't want to risk screwing up when it comes down to doing my last piece of work. I should sleep now. I need to be calm.

_December 16, AC 199_

I will really miss Duo, Heero and Wufei when I am gone. I am so grateful that they agreed to come live with me here in this big white house by the sea. They seem to enjoy it so much, especially Duo, who has taken to water with bounding joy. It makes me laugh to see him out there on the sand, alternately running into and away from the surf. Heero is teaching him to swim, but he's still a bit shy about his skill.

Trowa and Wufei love the water too, and so does that huge, shaggy sheepdog they've adopted. Trowa loves animals, and so do I, so when he asked if Rufus could come live with us I was very quick to say yes. I thought that he had already asked Wufei if it was all right, but I was mistaken. They had a huge argument over it. Wufei didn't want some gigantic, slobbering, boisterous beast sharing his and Trowa's bed. Trowa had to resort to some fairly underhanded tactics to make Wufei see that Rufus wouldn't be a hindrance to their relationship. I believe they had sex while Rufus stood in a corner under the 'stay' command.

Duo just came in. He was trying to feed me some sort of concoction he had whipped up in the kitchen. He says I'm too thin. Well, maybe I am, but it doesn't matter. It's laughable, really. The others stare at me as if I'm some kind of freak whenever I make one of my rare forays downstairs, and they whisper to each other while eyeing me in a conspiratorial manner.

Oh, listen to me. I'm being paranoid. Honestly, I don't know why I thought they even paid any attention to me. They must be too wrapped up in their budding—blossoming—relationships to notice me. I must try to be quiet, like a mouse, when I creep out of my room.

_December 17, AC 199_

It will be tomorrow. I've made my decision. Today I signed the final contract that will put WEI into ten of my sisters' hands as well as making Heero, Duo, Trowa and Wufei top shareholders in the company. I feel tremendously relieved.

For some reason I can't stop crying.

December 18, AC 199

I feel very calm. I'm crying, but my heart and soul are already at rest, and I feel as if I am floating. It's beautiful.

I have my Browning in my hand. I think I'll watch the tide come in one last time before I go

[Unfinished text]

~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-

_December 18, AC 199_

Quatre is in the hospital. Heero pretty much shattered his wrist when he kicked the gun out of Quatre's hand, but that isn't the problem. Quatre is malnourished, dehydrated, sleep deprived and displays just about every other symptom of self-neglect that medical science can come up with.

In other words, he's been trying to kill himself for quite a long time. The gun was just the final installment in a long drawn out battle for his soul.

All I have the strength to do at the moment is to slump against Rufus and try to write out my feelings. Behind me, Wufei is sunk into a deep, exhausted slumber on our bed. He's been crying. Wufei rarely cries. In fact, he only cries when he thinks he's lost someone who means something to him.

It's breaking my heart.

_December 19, AC 199_

I once told someone that I didn't believe in God, but I think I've changed my mind. I believe in God, and I think He hates us.

I was the only one who was in any condition to go visit Quatre in the hospital today. Wufei was still deep in his exhausted sleep and Heero was too busy trying to comfort Duo, who was (and still is) nearly hysterical.

Quatre is slightly improved, physically. He has a cast on his arm and is being given intravenous nourishment, but he isn't eating on his own and he refuses to speak. He practically radiates fury. When I tried to touch him, he jerked away as if my hand was a burning brand, and he started to cry. His tears were more furious and frustrated than sad.

I don't know what to do. My loved ones are hurting, and I don't know what to do.

~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-

_December 20, AC 199_

I saw my little brother today in the hospital this morning, but it wasn't really him. It was some wasted, silent ghost that looked sort of like Quatre, but wasn't him at all.

The Quatre I know is the smiling, cheery, loving little guy who provides for all of our material and emotional comforts, the one who tells us it'll be all right, the one who makes all the bad demons go away. He's the one we go to when we are upset and makes it all better with a warm hug and wise words. He's the one who shelters us from the big, bad world. He's our healer. He's the one who united us.

So what the blazing HELL is he doing in that fucking hospital bed?

Excuse me, I need to go punch something.


	2. Chapter 2

~-~-~-~-~-~-~-

_December 20, AC 199_

I've been doing some research on suicide. Ironic, isn't it? I should be the expert on the subject considering the number of times I tried to self-destruct during the wars. But then, I don't consider that to be the same thing that Quatre's going through right now.

I went with Duo to visit him today, but I could only manage about five minutes in his presence before I had to leave. I've never felt such rage before. It was coming off his body in cold waves, soaking through my skin and burying itself into my very bones, and after a while it was either scream out loud or leave the room.

Several times in my reasearch I've come across the word 'melancholy'. Such a poetic word. It sounds like it refers to a gentle type of sadness, or quiet introspection. It's not a word that I would have associated with that cold rage I felt back in that sterile white hospital room. But then I came across the original (and now archaic) meaning of the word: _An emotional state characterized by sullenness and outbreaks of violent anger, believed to arise from black bile._ [1]

Duo is in the chapel now, praying. At times like this, I wish I could believe in God.

~-~-~-~-~-~-~-

_December 21, AC 199_

Quatre spoke to me today. Apparently no one had bothered to ask him the most obvious question: Why are you so angry?

"My job here is finished, Wufei. Why can't you selfish sons of bitches just let me go?"

"I don't understand. What job are you talking about?" I asked him.

"I've been looking after you guys for the last four years. I've fought to protect you. I've seen to it that you never have to lift a finger for the rest of your lives if you don't want to. I've hidden your identities as Gundam pilots. I've given you a home. I've given you each other. I'm _finished_. I'm _tired_. I want to _GO_!"

Rage had twisted his face into an ugly, frightening mask, and I took a step back. "Who are you?"

My thoughtlessly blurted question stopped him cold. The red rage drained from his face, and he seemed to shrink in front of my eyes. "I don't know anymore, Wufei." I could tell by the look in his eyes that he was being sincere. He honestly does not know who he is anymore. Quatre Rebarba Winner has destroyed himself in every sense save the physical.

Writing this down has made me feel sick. I need Trowa.

~-~-~-~-~-~-~-

_December 21, AC 199_

Wufei got Quatre to talk today, apparently. He told us about it after dinner. I'm glad he waited, 'cause if he'd told us about it _before_ dinner, I doubt I'd have been able to eat.

I'm pissed. I'm sad. I'm upset. I'm…I don't know what the hell I'm feeling. It's all mixed up inside me and it's all I can do not to twist the end of my braid off. God, why didn't I see how that little blond monster had been manipulating my life for the past four years? Or should I call him an angel instead? No, he's a fucking monster. An angel wouldn't hurt me like this just when I'm starting to think my life has some meaning.

I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I HATE HIM!

~-~-~-~-~-~-~-

[1] Definition taken from Dictionary.com

Intelligent criticism is welcomed at asb_prime@yahoo.com. 


	3. Chapter 3

_December 21, AC 199_

Our meeting went badly.

Wufei relayed the conversation he had had with Quatre after dinner. I honestly don't know how to describe the pandemonium that went on afterwards, except to say that I ended up clinging to Rufus and protecting him bodily while Duo threw the dishes against the wall and screamed incoherently while Heero tried to grab him and calm him down.

Monster, he said. Angel, he said. 

I am beginning to wonder which one is Quatre myself. 

_December 21, AC 199_

Trowa is finally asleep.

He made me promise that we would go to the hospital tomorrow to visit Quatre, and then he started muttering things about monsters and angels as he fell asleep against me.

I remember a day last August when all five of us went to play on the beach together. We swam in the warm sea, basked in the sun, laughed, tackled each other, and generally made fools of ourselves, but then we split up into our usual groups. Heero was patiently building OZ bases out of wet sand and letting Duo demolish them with a driftwood scythe; Trowa was reclining in a shallow trench we had built and was letting me slowly bury him in sand; Quatre was alone, collecting interesting shells and pebbles and arranging them in an intricate mandala by the tide line.

I remember warning him that the tide was coming in and his creation was going to get washed away. I remember the sad little smile he gave me. "It's all right, Wufei. Nothing lasts forever." He had said with a little shrug, and then he went back to his labor. When my prediction came true and the tide came to claim his artwork inch by inexorable inch, he merely stood there and watched it go, seemingly without regret.

That was the last time he came to play on the beach with us.

_December 22, AC 199_

Okay, so I don't hate him.

I had a long talk with Heero last night, and I realized that I don't really hate Quatre, I'm just pissed off about his attitude. He should have known that he could have gone to any of us for help! He didn't need to let it go this far! What the hell is his problem with 

[unfinished text]

_December 22, AC 199_

I made Duo stay back at the house while Trowa, Wufei, and I went to the hospital to visit Quatre. He was too wound up to do any good. I'll deal with him later.

>Wufei seemed to be in good spirits, but Trowa looked nervous. I don't think he slept well last night. He looked agitated and tense.

We went up to Quatre's room on the fifth floor without incident. He was asleep—sedated, I suppose. He looked so pale and still that I had to put my fingers to his neck to confirm his pulse.

Trowa put his offering of green and gold flowers into the empty vase by the bed. Wufei wrapped his string of 50 origami cranes around its base. I set the card that Duo and I had signed next to it. Hopefully he will wake to see our well-wishes.

Quatre, my friend, please come back to us.


	4. Chapter 4

_December 23, AC 199_

Duo is still in no emotional condition to go to the hospital, but he did manage to find a rather unique gift for Quatre. I didn't know that they made scale model Gundams. It was as good a reproduction of Sandrock as you can get with molded plastic, making me wonder exactly how they got the specifications. I suspect this is Dr. J's doing. It would fit in with his rather…_unique_ sense of humor to market a line of toys based on the Gundams. Duo called me paranoid and walloped me with a pillow, but just because I'm paranoid doesn't mean I couldn't be right.

Quatre looked almost surprised when I gave him the miniature Gundam. He flexed its joints, opened the cockpit, took apart the cross-crusher and inspected it from every angle with more life in his eyes than I'd seen in weeks. "Remarkable," was the verdict. I was relieved. Out of all of us, Quatre had been the most emotionally attached to his Gundam and I was afraid he might react badly to the model. I was glad that it seemed to bring back good memories for him.

I didn't get much more conversation out of him. He seemed distracted. His hands were in constant restless motion—playing with the Gundam, straightening his sheet, scratching and worrying at a patch of irritated skin over his right ear, and just generally fidgeting. "I don't like this new medication," he confessed at last. "I can't concentrate."

"It's giving you a rash, too. I'll talk to your doctor." 

He covered his right ear with one hand. "It's not a rash, Heero, it's…."

"What is it?" I asked after waiting a full minute for him to continue.

"Nothing." He said softly. He focused on the Sandrock model, popping the hatch open and shut, open and shut. After a few repetitions of that, he yawned and sank back on his pillow. "I'm kind of tired, Heero. Thank you for visiting me."

Even though it was a clear dismissal, I beeped for a nurse. In a second, a large red-haired man entered the room, and I gave him my most serious look—the look that Duo calls my Death Glare. I escorted the man outside.

"He is having a bad reaction to his medication," I explained. "He is restless and agitated and he has a rash on his temple. Fix it."

"I'll bring it to his doctor's attention." The nurse said.

"See that you do." I wasn't satisfied with the nurse's answer, but I knew that it was the best I could expect, so I merely let him go and went back down to the garage. I needed to go home to Duo.

_December 23, AC 199_

I'm glad Quatre liked his present, since he won't be home in time for Christmas... I'm the only one who celebrates Christmas around here, so I kinda feel obligated to give the other guys presents. The others would most likely rather wallow in gloom this time of year than celebrate, seeing as it's the anniversary of the wars and all. I think that's stupid, but that's just me.

I've blackmailed Trowa into helping me with baking cookies, and he promises to help me with Christmas dinner. He's in his room studying cookbooks right now. He's a good sport, but God help me, if he chooses to make soup, I'm gonna strangle him.

Hey, I think Heero just got home! Maybe he'll be in the mood to

(unfinished text)

  
_December 23, AC 199_

I curse the day Catherine decided to teach me how to cook. At the time it was a welcome diversion to boredom, but once Duo found out I could actually cream butter and sugar together and separate an egg, he bludgeoned me mercilessly until I caved in and helped him bake no less tha six varieties of Christmas cookies. Not only that, but he bullied me into helping with dinner on Christmas day.

Hm, turkey soup looks easy enough….

I digress. Heero came back from the hospital with good news and bad news. The good news was that Quatre seemed to be improving physically and only needs to stay in the hospital till he gains five more pounds and comes up with a normal red blood cell count. The bad news is that he appears to be having an allergic reaction to the antidepressants he has been prescribed and is very uncomfortable.

I tried to get more details out of him but Duo had dragged him up the stairs by his shirt collar by that point.

Turkey soup…onions, celery, turkey, stock. Sounds good to me.


	5. Chapter 5

_December 23, AC 199_

Duo Maxwell is _insufferable_ when he's had a massive dose of sugar, caffeine, and holiday cheer. He started out the day with coffee, then he proceeded to devour the cookies he had forced Trowa to help him bake, then he bounded off to decorate the poor fir tree. I could not bear to watch.

Instead, I got into my car and prepared to speed off to the hospital. Even a suicidally depressed Gundam pilot would be a relief after that. Before I could take off, though, the passenger door opened and Trowa slipped into the shotgun seat. He appeared to be grinding his teeth.

"Are you sure, koi?" I asked.

"I just want to see if his rash has cleared up," he said in that low, cool voice that makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

I could not suppress a chuckle. "I'm sure that Heero has intimidated enough nurses to ensure that Quatre is under the best of care."

"…and I can't stand another minute in that house with Duo." He snapped his shoulder harness into place with a little more force than was absolutely necessary.

"Understood."

As soon as we arrived at the hospital, Trowa draped himself over the small sofa in Quatre's room and proceeded to catnap. Quatre, who was sitting cross-legged at the foot of his bed reading a tattered paperback, threw me a questioning look.

I sighed and rubbed my forehead. "Duo. Coffee. Sweets. Christmas tree." I said, putting a forced note of weariness into my voice. Quatre reacted to my theatrics by letting the corners of his mouth twitch up for a moment in the barest hint of a smile. I took that as a sign that he was willing to let his guard down a bit, and I took his chin in my hand. "Let me see your head."

I'd like to think that Quatre trusts me at this time because he senses that I am an honorable man, but that would be flattering myself. It's because, of the four of us, Quatre has had the least emotional involvement from me. Trowa, Duo, and Heero had all, at one point or another, made friends with him during the war, and had maintained that friendship in the years afterward, but I, ever the solitary one, had always kept myself at a slight distance from him. I believed it was necessary. My personality can be a bit, well, _abrasive_ at times ("you're a goddamn grouch, Wufei," I hear the echo of Trowa's voice in my head), and I'd always been afraid I would somehow hurt Quatre if I tried to get close to him. It had never occurred to me that I was hurting him even more by keeping my distance.

"It's still red," I said after I'd examined the irritated patch of skin over his ear. "Does it hurt? Itch? Anything?"

"No, it's not like that," he said, and his voice trailed off as if he was hunting for words. "It bothers me, which is why I keep scratching at it, but it's not a _physical_ thing."

"I don't understand."

"There's something there, Wufei. Something _weird_." 

I looked at the rash closely, combing through his pale hair with my fingers. I saw a faint white line on his skin. "Winner, how did you get that scar there?" I asked.

"Scar?"

"Right here." I traced the neat line with a finger. "It looks like a surgical scar. Have you ever had a head injury that required surgery?"

"No, not that I'm aware of."

I didn't like that scar. There was something sinister about it. I'm not really given to premonitions; I'm just suspicious about head injuries in general. "I think someone needs to take a look at this," I said. "Where do you suppose that idiot doctor of yours is?"

I didn't wait for an answer.

_December 23, AC 199_

It was probably rude of me to fall asleep the minute I walked into Quatre's hospital room, but I was tired and I had a headache and I wasn't going to be very good company until I got a nap.

I slept for about an hour. When I woke up, Wufei was gone and Quatre was sitting by the window, holding the model of Sandrock in his lap like a talisman and gazing out into the rain. I cleared my throat to get his attention. "Where did Wufei go?"

For a moment I thought he wasn't going to answer me, but as soon as I'd given it up as a lost cause, he said, "He wanted to talk to Dr. Whitman."

It took me a while to remember that Dr. Whitman was "that idiot doctor" who was looking after Quatre. "Why? Aren't you feeling well?"

He shrugged. "I'm fine." He got up from his chair and went to go stand in front of the window. He put one hand against the inch-thick, shatterproof pane as if he was trying to touch the rain, and it made me realize how _imprisoned_ he must be feeling, trapped as he was in the psychiatric ward with watchful staff scrutinizing his every move. Christ.

I got up and stretched, then I went to go stand behind him. "Quatre…." I started to say, but then I couldn't finish my sentence. What could I say? Cheer up? Everything will be okay? I couldn't think of one single intelligent thing to tell him, so instead I just put my hand on his shoulder and looked out at the rain with him.

_December 23, AC 199_

I finally got that idiot doctor to agree to examine Quatre's head _thoroughly--today_. Not after Christmas, not tomorrow morning, but Right. Fucking. Now. There are times that I really wish that I hadn't had to destroy Nataku. 

Trowa drove us home. He said I was way too wound up to drive, and perhaps he was right, but dammit! I fought too hard and gave up too much to let anyone jeopardize the family that I now have with my fellow warriors. 

This is possibly the most draining battle I have ever taken on, but I will win it.


	6. Chapter 6

_December 24, AC 199_

"Shall we say grace?" I asked, looking around the linen-covered table that Heero, Trowa and Wufei were sitting at and staring at my Christmas Eve dinner with varying expressions of surprise and apprehension.

"Er, is that a goose?" Trowa asked me. He was squinting at it like he'd never seen one before.

"Yup!"

"It looks sort of…singed."

"It's Cajun goose."

"What's that red jelly?" Heero asked, poking my cranberry sauce with the handle of his fork. He looked sort of startled when it wobbled at him.

"Cranberry sauce." I explained.

"Why is it that weird shape?"

"It came out of a can. Ahem. I'd like to pray now if you don't mind." I grabbed Trowa's left hand in my right and groped around for Wufei's hand with my left.

Heero went quiet, although he looked like he might want to shoot the cranberry sauce if it made a funny move. It's a good thing we have a house rule about not bringing firearms to the table.

I got ready to pray again, but Wufei wasn't cooperating. "Er, traditionally we hold hands during family prayer," I told Wufei. He reluctantly put his callused hand in mine. Trowa's warm hand held me on the other side. Heero accepted Trowa and Wufei's hands as we completed the circle. I cleared my throat and began to say, "Come Lord Jesus, be our guest and let these gifts to us be blessed", but I was interrupted by the phone ringing. Wufei, Heero and Trowa all leaped up to answer it.

Oh, forget it. I want to eat.

_December 24, AC 199_

I won the race to the phone, which was a relief since Duo's cooking attempts were scaring me a little. 

"Mr. Chang?" Asked the voice on the other end. I recognized him as the idiot doctor who was presumably looking after Quatre.

"Speaking. How can I help you?"

"This is doctor Whitman. I've finished my examination of your, erm, family member, and I have an X-ray that I would like you to see. Can you come by the hospital this evening?"

What a stupid man. What a stupid question.

"Yes, of course. I am on my way right now." I slammed down the phone and turned to face the rest of my 'family members'. "Quatre's doctor has asked me to look at an X-ray. If anyone would like to accompany me, I'll be in my Jeep."

Duo nearly spat out his bite of food. "In the middle of Christmas dinner?"

I was about ready to scream at him when Trowa, already wearing his jacket, picked up a spare plate and began to load it with goose, stuffing, Brussels sprouts, sweet potatoes with Nataku-only-knows why one would want to put _marshmallows_ of all things on sweet potatoes—

Maxwell's cooking has obviously affected my mind. He _will_ be paying for my therapy.

Trowa used the plate full of food (and I'm using the term 'food' in the loosest possible sense here) to lure Duo out the door, and then we all piled into my Jeep and took off for the hospital.

_December 24, AC 199_

Apparently Duo is over being angry with Quatre. As soon as he came into the room and saw the stricken look on Quatre's face, he immediately sat down behind him on the bed, wrapped his arms around him, then gave Quatre his braid to hold like a teddy bear. I don't think it's having the same effect on Quatre as it does on Duo when he's upset, but it is kind of a cute picture.

Wufei is outside ripping Dr. Whitman several interesting new orifices. I certainly wouldn't want to be in his shoes. If I strain a bit I can hear Wufei's voice…"What do you mean you don't know? If I hear 'I don't know' one more time, I'm going to flay you alive with a Swiss Army knife! Go find someone who _does_ know and find them _now_!"

I love my 'Fei.

Heero, now…well, he's beginning to worry me. He's been staring at the X-ray for over an hour now, and it looks like it's about ready to melt from sheer eyepower. He's also developed the slight nervous tic under his left eye that means that he's getting ready to shoot something just on general principles. I can only hope that he waits till we're out of the hospital before he does it. I don't think the other patients would appreciate the chaos.

When Wufei instructed the doctor to examine the wound on Quatre's head thoroughly, apparently he only saw the patch of scratched and reddened skin at first. They wasted an entire day testing him for every skin disease known to medical science, every allergy, and every drug reaction, etcetera and so on until Quatre finally broke his self-imposed vow of silence and pointed out the scar. I'm beginning to suspect that the good doctor really is as dense as Wufei thinks. Since they were unable to schedule an MRI scan on such short notice, they did a simple X-ray and came up with the image that Heero is scowling at as if it, personally, was the cause of all the woe and suffering on Earth and the colonies.

I don't know how he can stand to look at it like that. When I saw it—that opaque square of foreign material embedded in Quatre's skull—I nearly threw up all over myself. No wonder Quatre looks like he's just seen a whole churchyard full of ghosts. The object is flat and thin and about two centimeters square, and there's some indication that it was originally larger than it is now. The scar tissue from the surgery he must have undergone indicates that it was put there about six or seven years ago, when Quatre was in early puberty. 

He was just a child. How could someone do that to a child? _Why_ would someone do that to a child? Well, since we didn't even know what 'that' was, I suppose I'm getting ahead of myself.

I was just about to try to get Heero to put the awful thing down when 'Fei burst back into the room, red-faced and scowling. "Trowa, pack Quatre's stuff. Duo, help him get dressed. Heero, take his chart and that X-ray. We're leaving. Now."

"'Fei? What's going on?"

"We're taking Quatre where we should have taken him in the first place. We're going to the Preventers HQ so Sally Po can take care of this situation. Dr. Whitman is no longer capable of it."

My hands felt very cold all of a sudden. "Wufei? What did you do to him?" I asked slowly.

He gave me the sharklike grin he usually gives me when he's about to inflict a particularly painful love bite on me. "Oh, nothing much…I just put the fear of Nataku into him."

That didn't bode well, but I decided to drop it and leave it for some other time when we were feeling more relaxed. The curiousity probably wouldn't kill me. As I set about collecting Quatre's books and things, I happened to glance at the clock and saw that it was just past midnight.

Merry freaking Christmas.


	7. Chapter 7

_December 25, AC 199_

Sally Po was not pleased to be informed that a former Gundam pilot was going to be cluttering up her infirmary, but she kind of relaxed when she heard it wasn't me. God, how many times do I have to apologize for the aquarium incident? [1] She still wasn't pleased, though.

"What's the prob, Sal?" I asked her over the vidphone the next morning. "Quatre's quiet and good. What are you getting all bent out of shape for?"

"The 'prob', Duo, is that he's got 28 sisters and 40 soldiers that like to check up on him frequently, not to mention you four. That's a rather large entourage for me to accommodate." She snapped. Yes, Sally snapped at me. I'm hurt.

"Sally, the sisters and the Maguanacs don't know about this." I told her, and I could almost feel the sheer relief coming off her. "We told them he's off visiting some friends somewhere and will be back in about two weeks. Jeez, don't you think we thought about that?" 

Now, I love the Winner ladies to bits and Rashid and the guys are just plain cool, but honestly, the thought of having 68 worried family members plus assorted husbands, wives and kids tromping through the house fussing over Quatre was enough to give me nightmares.

"Okay, so then it's just you four." She said with a little bit of a smirk.

"Yeah, and Rufus."

The smirk disappeared. "Who is Rufus?"

I forgot. Sally hadn't been by to visit lately, so they hadn't been introduced. I gave a whistle and pretty soon 80 pounds of very happy Old English sheepdog came bounding into the room. He put his front paws in my lap and stood up to lick my face when I slung a chummy arm around his shoulders. "This is Rufus. Say hi, boy!" 

Rufus gave a ringing bark and Sally dropped her head into her hands and started to whimper.

_December 25, AC 199_

Could this crisis have possibly come at a more inconvenient time? I mean, it was a week till the Bicentennial Celebration and the Preventers were overworked and understaffed enough as it was, then I find myself with a handful of Quatre Reberba Winner to deal with.

Don't get me wrong, though; I adore the kid. I think he's all that and a bag of chips, at least when he's in his right mind. He isn't, though, and it doesn't have anything to do with something as simple as Zero System this time.

When I first saw his medical charts and the X-ray, I immediately ordered an MRI and a spinal tap, and I was NOT happy with what I saw. Quatre's neurotransmitters were royally fucked up, to borrow one of Duo's terms. His entire brain chemistry was in an uproar, and what was worse was that I didn't entirely understand _how_ they were fucked up. His serotonin levels were so low that it was a wonder he was functioning at all, but there were other abnormalities that only showed up in Alzheimer's patients and full-blown schizophrenics and OCD sufferers—all at once. I know from his medical records that Quatre never showed any pre-disposition for any of those conditions, not that they occur that often in this day and age anyway. So how the hell did his brain suddenly decide to go FUBAR on him?

The obvious answer is, of course, that foreign object in his skull. That thing is going to have to come out pronto. I'm scheduling surgery for tomorrow morning, very early.

[break]

Oh God. Duo just called. He's coming by to give us Christmas dinner and fleas.

Don't ask. Okay? For the sake of my slowly unraveling sanity, just don't ask.

_December 25, AC 199_

Cajun goose isn't all that bad, actually. I knew Duo had improvised a lot with the recipe, but when you scraped all the char off the skin, slice it thinly and make a sandwich out of it with cranberry sauce, it wasn't bad at all. Sally seemed to like it also—she munched down two of the things while we pored over the data she had gathered on Quatre.

I cannot claim to understand all the medical details, but Sally had drawn me aside because of my hacking abilities. 

"Heero, part of this thing is silicon, so I'm thinking it might be a computer chip of some kind. Do you recognize any circuitry or anything?" She asked between bites of sandwich.

"I don't see any circuitry, per se. There's no pattern on the surface. In fact, it looks kind of corroded."

She wiped mayonnaise from her upper lip. "That's what bugs me. I can't quite get a grip on what the thing is actually _made_ of. It seems to be partly silicon and partly organic, but I've never seen its like." She sat back in her desk chair with a sigh. "Damn. I hate having to root around in Quatre's head to get it out, but I'm going to have to. I have an extremely bad feeling about this."

"Sally, you do what you have to do." I put my hand on her arm because Duo says that's what you do when you want to reassure someone. "We trust your judgment."

She turned her head to me and gave me a smile that made me feel warmer and more relaxed. Duo says that that is a sign of a genuine smile rather than a forced one. "Thanks, Heero. That means a lot." She straightened up in her chair. "So, shall we join the party?" She inclined her head to the infirmary, where Duo and Wufei and Trowa and Rufus were visiting Quatre. "I'm sure they left us plenty of treats."

My mouth turned up at the corners involuntarily. I think I was giving her a genuine smile. "Sure, Sally. Lead the way."

_December 25, AC 199_

This is just going to be a quick entry since the guys pretty much wore me out. I'll get the salient points across as quick as I can before Sally's sleeping pills knock me out.

1) Today is Christmas. According to Duo, we should celebrate friends and family with food and gifts and visits. Well, we did that to the best of our abilities since I wasn't allowed to eat or drink anything, but my friends were all there, including Rufus. I still don't think I can talk to them, but it was nice to have them around.

2) There's a chip in my head that's messing with my brain chemistry.

3) The chip is what was messing with my self-preservation instincts. Or, to put it bluntly, it was what was making me want to kill myself.

4) Sally will be removing the chip in a few hours. It will either cure me or kill me.

I need to sleep now…

==================================================== 

[1] This is a bow to my favorite GW fanfic of all time, 'Reunion' by Mel & Christy. You can read the original scene here: http://4dw.net/deathndragon/gwfic/Reunion_3.html if you scroll down about 3/4ths of the way down…or just search for the word 'fish'. 5x2, 1xR warnings apply, though.


	8. Chapter 8

Notes for this section: Pardon the wonky science.

_December 26 AC 199_

I knew it. I knew it. I knewitIknewit_Iknewit_. As soon as Heero got his hands on that chip thingie, I knew it had something to do with my little brother's craziness. It's ugly and corroded-looking, but Heero says it was designed to break down like that and that it's partly organic and yadda yadda I can't concentrate on _stupid details_! GODDAMMIT!

[later]

I just ran five laps around the compound, took a cold shower and ate an entire bag of tortilla chips with extra hot salsa. I'm okay now. I think. I can read Heero and Sally's notes without screaming, anyway.

Anyway, the chip that they took out of Quatre's head is some sort of chemical sandwich—it was composed of layers of different chemicals that either suppressed or enhanced certain neurotransmitters in Quatre's brain separated by some sort of slowly decaying organic substance. Heero's notes say that the stuff between the chemical pockets was designed to release a different chemical once every eighteen months, approximately. He and Sally think there may have been as many as five cycles. The only one left seems to be a substance that pretty much stops serotonin production and causes a deep depression in its victim, among other things.

The long and short of it is, someone has been tampering with Quatre's brain ever since early puberty, beginning with God-knows-what and ending with a suicide drug.

That someone is going to die—slowly, painfully, and in a highly creative manner.

_December 26, AC 199_

I had no idea that Quatre could curse fluently in six different languages, but he can and he did when Sally and I stopped by the hospital to explain our findings. It was quite impressive. He went on for about five minutes non-stop and never repeated himself once, as far as I could tell. He only stopped when Sally reminded him that it was impolite to curse in front of ladies.

"Well, what would _you_ do under the circumstances?" He snapped at her, but he did calm down a bit. Long enough for Sally to give him the folder on our research, anyway.

After ten minutes of absolute silence while Quatre absorbed the information, I could tell that Sally was as edgy and as bored as I was, so I dragged her off to the cafeteria for an early lunch.

I was quite surprised that Sally Po liked eggplant Parmesan as much as I do—but I digress.

We had gone over the chemical components many times together. The first one was mild in comparison with the others and merely raised aggression levels a bit. It didn't affect his basic personality aside from making him wish to fight for what he thought was right. We checked our roughly sketched timeline and figured that it had kicked in about the time that he had disinherited himself from his family's wealth. This was just before or just after he had met the Maguanacs, but that bit is sketchy.

The next wave of disintegration took place right after the war had started in earnest. At this point Quatre was just beginning to realize that he was not alone in defending the colonies, and he would have wanted to know that he had allies. The empathy-dampening neuronics were released at this time. His natural ability to sense emotion was very definitely being held back at this point. I suppose it was a mercy on his part.

The next big phase came after he had been forced to destroy Sandrock. It was yet another aggression-enhancer, and it could not have come at a worse time. Not only had he been forced to self-destruct, but he'd witnessed his father's and his sister's death in the same week. No wonder he had been so strange during the ZERO incident…not that I don't forgive him. ZERO was too much for me at first, and I don't have the excuse of grief and strange brain implants to exonerate me.

I am not searching for pardon. I went into my battles with my eyes wide open. 

My goal was to destroy my enemies. That was what Dr. J trained me to do, and according to the research Sally and I did, the foreign object in Quatre's head kicked in at about the same time my training ended. But who were our enemies at that point? The Alliance? OZ? Romafeller? Cinque? _Ourselves_? There were too many enemies/allies…and…

I cannot remember.

I think I've blocked that part out.

Getting back to Quatre…the empathy would have almost been back to its normal levels after we got back to Earth and met up with Count Townsend, although Sally suspects that it may have been muted somewhat. I remember him being rather depressed at the time, though fully functional. He was reasonable and seemed normal—or what passed for normal then—during that time. I would not have left him alone to protect Relena at her Cinque Kingdom school otherwise.

Crap. If only I'd known that he needed protection more than she did.

_December 26, AC 199_

Great, now Heero's under sedation. 

I suppose I should try to explain.

Sally called me at 23:04 and asked me to come look after Heero and Quatre, since they had both apparently given in to some sort of emotional breakdown and would not let anyone come near them. Anyone who tried to get into the Preventer's infirmary got Heero's sidearm up one nostril with a complimentary 'omae o korosu' thrown in. Hell, even _I_ got that greeting.

It took me almost 10 minutes to disentangle myself from Trowa's arms, for one thing. I swear, sleeping with him is akin to sleeping with a horny octopus. He has far too many hands for a normal person. Plus, that enormous furball that he calls a dog was sleeping across my legs and would not be roused. Wasn't it bad enough that the stupid animal had developed a serious case of intestinal gas from eating Maxwell's so-called Cajun turkey?

Anyway, I finally extracted myself from my lover and his mutt without waking either of them (a minor miracle in itself), got dressed, and slipped out of the beach house without further incident.

Sally was more than happy to see me, in spite of the lateness of the hour. 

"Wufei, if you can make those two see reason, I'll personally see to it that you and Trowa get a week off in Paris on the Preventer's tab." Were her exact words.

"You will have to provide boarding for that stupid dog, too," I told her. I always like to raise the stakes when I know I'm winning. "I'm not spending a weeks' vacation in the company of that flatulent, crotch-sniffing animal."

She only nodded. "Agreed. Please go in." She pushed a button on the console of her desk and there was a faint whirring noise. "Third door on your left," she said," I'm sure you know the way."

I nodded as crisply as I could given the crick in my neck I always got when sleeping on Trowa's shoulder, and I marched down the hallway to the room where my strange friends were quartered.

Well, I got halfway down it, anyway. That was when Heero jumped out from behind a doorway and assaulted my nostril and threatened to kill me.

"Heero, cut the melodramatics." I said with as much dignity as I could muster with a .45 automatic pistol up my nose. "I just wanted to see you and Quatre."

He slowly released his iron grip on my middle, and then just as slowly removed the gun from my person. His eyes flicked left and right, checking for enemies. "Okay. Come with me." He said, and dragged me into Quatre's room by my collar.

Then things started to get seriously weird.


	9. Chapter 9

_This section is dedicated to Redhook's Ballard Bitter._ _December 27, AC 199_

Heero Yuy must be part German Shepherd. That's the only way I can explain his mile-wide protective streak. That isn't necessarily a _bad_ thing, mind you, but it can get pretty damn annoying sometimes.

By the time I convinced him that it was highly unlikely that any bad guys were going to break into the Preventers infirmary and kidnap Quatre, it was 0130 and my eyes felt like they had been sandblasted. The only thing keeping me on my feet was pure adrenaline. It was in that state that I frog marched Heero back to Sally's office and insisted that she give him a sleeping pill.

Twenty minutes later, he was out like a light on the extra bed in Quatre's room.

Quatre himself was wide awake. He was sitting cross-legged on the foot of his bed with a pile of folders in his lap, and he was going through each one in methodical silence. I grabbed a chair and sat down in front of him, snapping my fingers under his nose to get his attention.

"The silent treatment is getting pretty old, Winner. Why don't you spare me the suspense and tell me what's going on here?"

His eyes looked as tired as mine felt. His unusually-colored irises seemed to glow against the bloodshot whites. "Didn't Heero tell you?" He asked me.

I pointed to the bed where Heero was sprawled out under starched sheets. He was snoring softly. "He was too exhausted to make any sense. Besides, I want _you_ to tell me."

He shuffled some papers around like a natural-born paper pusher. "Sally could probably give you better medical details, but the short version is that I've had an implant in my skull for about seven years that has more or less controlled my behavior, my thought processes, my moods…" he swallowed audibly. "Basically everything that makes me, well, _me_, has been controlled since I was thirteen years old."

Thirteen. Such a fragile age. I felt a strange, free-falling sensation in the pit of my stomach. "So you're saying that this implant basically controlled you?"

"Sort of, but that isn't the really disturbing thing. See, the chemical effects were deployed in stages that happened to coincide with key events in the war." He raised his head and looked me directly in the eye. "Do you understand what that means, Wufei?"

I thought I did. "It meant you were worked like a puppet all those years."

He shook his head. "That's not what I mean—well, not exactly. Wufei, the person who implanted this must have had a hand in controlling the war, somehow, or else how would he know when my behavior needed to change?"

"That's ridiculous!" I blurted.

He thrust a handful of papers at me. "Here, look this over. Sally drew it up today. It's a timeline that she and Heero put together showing the stages of decomposition of that thing in my head compared with the events that happened during the war. See how it's relatively benign for two years? Those two years were the ones I spent training with Instructor H. Then here," he tapped a date in early AC 195, "here is where Operation Meteor really began, when the scientists sent the five of us to Earth. Sally says that this particular chemical enhances aggression and physical reflexes…and here, about six months later, it changed again. That's about the time when I had to destroy Sandrock to help you and Duo escape from that base—"

"Yes, I remember that." I cut in. That was about the time things started going downhill for Quatre. It was a period that I'd rather not have discussed since it nearly resulted in the loss of Trowa.

"Well, it seems that that period of time was either anticipated or orchestrated by whoever did this to me." He tapped the small bandage over his right ear.

"I see," I said as the full implications became apparent to me. "Someone really knew what they were doing."

"Or they thought they did. Oh, Wufei," his voice developed a minor tremor, "you were right. They worked me like a puppet." And with that, he drew his knees up to his chest and curled up into a ball. I didn't blame him.

Not knowing what else to do, I just sat down on the bed next to him and put my arm around his shoulders.

_December 27, AC 199_

I woke up feeling very groggy and disoriented and it took me several minutes to remember that that bastard traitor Wufei had let Sally drug me the night before. I sincerely hate being drugged. I wrestled my way out of the sheets, wondered briefly why Wufei and Quatre were sleeping on the same bed, and went to go find some coffee.

Sally had a coffee machine in her office. I let myself in and made use of it. Sally herself was asleep on a low cot in a little alcove, so I made a full pot in case she wanted some.

She made a noise. "Heero, has anyone told you that your social skills are somewhat lacking?" I guess the wheezing, gurgling noise of the coffee machine had woken her up.

"Yes," I answered. "Would you like some coffee?"

"Thanks, that's sweet of you, but it doesn't excuse you for barging in on my beauty sleep."

Duo also mentions 'beauty sleep' on occasion, but I guess I don't understand the concept. "You're pretty enough, Sally," I said, and it must have been an odd thing to say since she burst out laughing. I'm not very good with idioms.

The coffee was good, though, and it cleared away the fog in my brain. By the second cup, I could almost forgive Wufei. I know he only had my best interests in mind, but still…

Sally asked me if I would take Quatre his medication. I think she was politely trying to kick me out of her office, so I pocketed the pills and went back to his assigned room with two cups of coffee.

Wufei was awake. He was scowling and rubbing his shoulder, but he nodded his thanks when I gave him his coffee.

"Bad night?" I asked.

"You could say that." He lifted his arm experimentally and winced. "I fell asleep with my arm around Winner's shoulders and it sort of froze in that position." He took a drink of his coffee and his scowl faded a bit. "He told me what's been going on. It's…disturbing."

I agreed. "Yeah, it's disturbing, but it's over now."

The scowl came back. "What do you mean, it's over?" he demanded.

"It's over. The implant is out. Quatre's on the mend. It's over." I turned my back on him and went to Quatre's bed to wake him up.

"Heero, I can't believe you!" Wufei said in a voice loud enough to wake Quatre without my having to jostle him. "Don't you want to know who did this? Don't you _need_ to know?"

I handed Quatre his coffee and took the pills out of my pocket. I blew the lint off of them before I gave them to him. "How are we supposed to find out, Wufei?"

"I don't know…there must be some sort of record—Quatre, you must have medical records somewhere, right?"

Quatre may have just woken up, but he somehow seemed to have been following the conversation. I suspected he had been awake for some time and had been listening in quietly while feigning sleep. "It's possible. Sally has copies of everything from my personal physician, and then there are Instructor H's records somewhere…probably on that old abandoned natural resource satellite he used as his lab and workshop."

"MO-III" I said, remembering.

"Yes, that's it. That's the last place I remember him contacting me from," Quatre said.

"Then that's where we go next," said Wufei, and I was familiar enough with that bedrock-solid, stubborn tone of voice that I knew arguing would be worthless. Wufei was going to go to MO-III whether any of us liked it or not, and may the gods have mercy on anyone who tried to get in his way. I felt my shoulders sag.

"All right. MO-III it is."

_December 27, AC 199_

Left to my own devices, I am not a morning person. No matter where on Earth or the colonies I might be at any given moment, I am a night owl who does my best work during the night cycle and I prefer to sleep half the day away before crawling out of my warm bed in search of caffeine and nourishment. Sure, I can rise at the crack of dawn and be reasonably alert and functional, but on the whole, I am a nocturnal animal.

That's probably why I slept through the noise that morning, although the beers I had drunk with Duo the night before could have had something to do with it also—I don't really know. All I really remember is vaguely hearing a car horn beeping, then something that sounded like a fist pounding on the front door, but I chalked these up to early-morning dreams and thought nothing of them. It took Duo himself to shake me out of my slumber and make me face reality.

"Wake up, Bang Boy!" He said while jumping up and down on my bed. Wearing combat boots, I might add.

I think I told him to go stick his head in a pig or something like that, but he wouldn't leave me alone. Somehow it seemed imperative to him that I wake up. "All right, all right, get your elbow out of my ribs. What is it?"

"We got complications, man! Look!" He pointed to the bedroom window, which faced out over the back yard and the driveway. I looked. I saw a screamingly ugly metallic purple car with lots of horrible chrome accents parked in front of the house. Only one person in the world would own and love such a car.

"Oh crap," I moaned.

"Oh crap is right, dude! You gotta do something!" Duo seemed to be panicking.

All I really wanted to do was to crawl back into bed and sleep till a decent hour—say two or three o'clock in the afternoon—but it just wasn't going to happen.

"TROWA!" Screamed a voice that I normally would have been happy to hear. "GET YOUR SCRAWNY BUTT DOWN HERE AND GIVE YOUR SISTER A HUG!"

I sighed. The complication had arrived.


	10. Chapter 10

December 27, AC 199

This is an open prayer to any random deity that might be taking requests at the moment: Please, please, please don't make me have to lie to Catherine any more! I'm a really lousy liar and besides, she's like a sister to me.

Short story: Catherine had come to spend the Bicentennial with us.

Long story: Quatre was in the Preventer's infirmary recovering from weirdness galore, which we needed to keep from her—and everyone else, I imagine. We had already lied through our teeth to the Winner girls and the Maguanacs about Quatre's situation, so it was no great leap for Trowa to tell her that he had gone off on some private vacation. We smiled and hugged and did all that sibling stuff while he did the lying thing, and I hated every minute of it. Lying _offends_ me.

Yeah, we all know my shtick: I run, I hide, but I never lie, but do you know where that comes from? No? I'll tell you, then: Lying takes an excellent memory and the truth is always easier. I always take the easy way out.

That was why I began to hate Trowa after he badgered me into making breakfast for three while he caught up with his sister. What's it gonna be, folks? Substituting his hair gel for toothpaste? His toothpaste for wood glue? His _lube_ for wood glue? I plotted evilly while I fried the eggs…yeah, he's gonna kill me, but it'll be worth it.

December 27, C 199

Duo was planning something evil; I can sense it. His grin was showing too many teeth, and he was way too cheerful. I told Cathy to hold on for a moment, and then I went into the kitchen where I caught him squeezing wood glue onto the fried eggs.

"Duo, now isn't the time." I told him. I took the frying pan off the stove burner before it caught on fire and set off the smoke alarm.

He looked massively disappointed. I swear that even his braid sagged. "But we want her to go away, don't we?" He whined. He must have gotten into the Choco-Puffs. He's rarely _this_ obnoxious so early in the morning.

"No. Cathy can do whatever she wants. If she wants to stay here and watch the bicentennial fireworks, for example, she can do that." I kept my voice as firm as possible, although I was anxious to return to Cathy. She worries about us. 

"But she'll ask embarrassing questions!"

Well, that was true. "She might, if we give her anything to worry about. Down, Rufus." My dog had chosen that moment to get all affectionate and started sniffing at my crotch.

"She'll ask where the other guys are!" Duo said.

"I told her that—down, Rufus—Wufei was at work and that—down, Rufus—Heero was out shopping and that Quatre was—down, Rufus—on vacation with one of his sisters. Down, Rufus."

Rufus finally got the message and rolled over on his back to beg for a treat. Duo gave him a slice of bacon, which I would have throttled him for had my sister not been in the next room. Instead, I just washed out the pan and started to fix a proper breakfast.

I didn't really get the chance, though. The phone in the kitchen rang just as I was whipping eggs, and Duo informed me that it was for me.

"Fine, but don't touch anything!" I said, taking the handset from him. He just stuck out his tongue at me and ran off to go bother my sister. God, can he really be 19 years old?

"Tro, it's me," Wufei said on the other end of the phone. "Listen, we've got a mission."

There's a word I'd never thought I'd ever have to hear again. No, correction; I _hoped_ I'd never had to hear again. I'm not naturally inclined to optimism, however, so it had been a rather thin hope. "What kind of a mission?" I asked as my mind conjured up all sorts of horrible things, most of them revolving around Relena.

Wufei must have read my damn mind. "It's about Quatre."

That shocked me. I had thought he was out of danger. "Quatre? Is he all right? I thought Sally said he was going to be okay after they took the chip out?"

"Calm down, you," Wufei said, and I swear I heard a smile in his voice. He was practically laughing at me. "He's doing fine. Sally's taking the stitches out of his wrist right now…and Heero's watching over her like a hawk."

I could picture that easily. When it came to any one of the other four of us, Heero didn't trust anyone else to so much as administer an aspirin or apply a band-aid without his direct supervision. Of course, the rest of us aren't much better. "If he's doing so fine, then why do we have a mission that involves him? Down Rufus." My dog had decided that he really needed to lick my face right at that moment. I think he's jealous of the phone.

The other love of my life began to sound impatient. "We need to know who put that chip in Quatre's head, Trowa! Whoever did it had far too much foreknowledge of what was going to happen during the wars, and they not only controlled him, but the rest of us by association. I, for one, am not about to let that action go unpunished."

Oh, that. I should have known. One of the things I both admire and hate about Wufei is his need for justice. Somehow he got the insane notion in his head that life should be fair. It's funny—out of the five of us, I think he's the biggest idealist, thinking the way he does. However, sometimes I'm not convinced that he can tell the difference between justice and revenge. Actually, I'm not too sure of the distinction myself… 

"Hang on, Wufei, how in the world are we going to be able to find out who it was? If Quatre himself can't remember, then how the hell are _we_ supposed to find out?"

"We can start on MO-III, the satellite where he met Instructor H and the Maguanacs. There must be some record of his early training there."

I lost control of my jaw for a second. "The Maguanacs? You don't think they—"

"No, I don't suspect them, although they might have some useful information. I was thinking more along the lines that there might be some medical records still there."

I felt relieved at that. The Maguanac Corps, every single goddamn overprotective maniac among them, were above reproach, especially when it came to Quatre. If I ever thought that any of them might have betrayed him, I'd…I don't know…stake them out naked in the lion cages and smear their genitals with cat food, maybe. "That's a good idea—" I started to say, but at that moment I was cut off by Cathy's blood-freezing shriek and death threat.

"DAMN YOU, DUO MAXWELL! WHEN I CATCH YOU I'M GOING TO SKIN YOU ALIVE!" She raced out of the bedroom with her hair done up in two ridiculous little braids that stuck off the top of her head like antennae. That was Duo's work, I imagine.

I cleared my throat. "But I'm afraid I'm going to have to decline the mission, Wufei. I'm needed here at the moment."

He paused for a minute. "Was that Catherine I heard screaming?"

"Yes. You should see what Duo did to her hair."

"I _do not_ want to know. Look, why don't I take Heero and Quatre with me while you and Duo coordinate things from there?"

I looked over my shoulder and saw that my sister was chasing a black blur with a braid around the living room, screaming obscenities in a voice that would have curdled milk. "I have a better idea. Why don't you leave Quatre here and take Duo? Cathy's only been here half an hour and I'm already having to run interference for his life."

He chuckled at me. "I feel for you, Tro, I really do, but I think the original arrangement is for the best. Quatre needs to be with us."

Duo raced by me screaming, "HELP ME, TROWA! GET THE CRAZY LADY OFF ME!" while the 'crazy lady' zoomed after him, only slightly slower in her slippery two-inch heels than he was in his boots. I don't know which one it was, but one of them knocked over the bowl of eggs I'd been stirring earlier—which were the last eggs in the house, by the way—and Rufus came out of where he had been hiding under the table to lick them up.

I tried to stop grinding my teeth because they were starting to hurt. "Wufei, let me put it to you this way: Either you take Duo with you, or you're not getting any for a month. It's up to you."

I could almost hear the color draining out of his face. He knew I was serious. I don't make threats often or lightly.

"Fine." He said at last. "Tell Maxwell to pack up his things. Chang out."

He hung up on me. I sighed and started to clean up after my now-sick dog while Duo and Catherine duked it out loudly in the bedroom. God help me, I was almost glad for this mission!


	11. Chapter 11

_December 28, AC 199_

From space, MO-III looks like a giant mutant potato. It's roughly twice as long as it is high (and I know these are relative terms in space, so bear with me), it's a dull brown color with none of the twinkly bits you'd see on other natural resource satellites, and it has some bumps and stuff from the attitude jet housings that look like potato eyes. It was ugly.

My motion and heat sensors were flatlined, but I'd halfway expected that. After all, the Maguanacs had gone back to Earth after the wars, and it would have been pretty strange for Instructor H to have lived there all by himself. You can't be alone too long in outer space without going a little bonkers, and that isn't just my opinion—loony bins from Earth to Mars are packed full of the poor warped souls who've tried it. They even have a name for it: Infinity Syndrome.

Since we were only a half hour or so away from it, I turned on the comm link to the passenger area and started playing my wake-up music. And before you accuse me of anything, no, it wasn't something obnoxious. I'm too attached to my own life to risk waking up Wufei with my death thrash surf punk. It was Ravel's _Bolero_, which I picked out because it starts out nice and slow and gradually builds up to a tempo and volume that really gets your blood thumping. It's better than coffee.

"Are we there yet?" Wufei's voice asked. Or at least I think it was Wufei. The guy sounds about 300 years old when he first wakes up.

"Just about," I said. "Are Killer and Blondie awake back there?"

"More or less."

"What about the big guy?"

"I'm awake," Rashid said, but he sounded a little grumpy about it. I think he was still sort of pissed that we'd made him sleep while I did the piloting—after all, it was _his_ shuttle. Oh well, he'd get over it.

"Good. We've got just about enough time to grab a snack and get suited up." At the word 'snack', my stomach rumbled. "Down, boy."

I heard a snort behind me. "Are you talking to your stomach again?" Heero asked.

"Hey, it started the conversation," I grinned. I accepted the meal bar he handed me and he slid into the copilot's seat.

"Any signs of life?" He asked, nodding at the satellite.

"Nope. It's dead as a doornail."

He gave me a weird look. "What's a doornail?"

"I dunno, but that satellite is as dead as one."

He dropped the subject, which was a good thing since we were approaching the landing bay and I needed to concentrate. It's been a while since I was able to do this in my sleep…man, losing your edge sucks.

_December 28, AC 199_

The shuttle we had borrowed was large, but its owner was nearly dwarfing it. I'd never met Rashid face-to-face before, and while I'd been told that he was a large man, I hadn't grasped the fact that he was _that_ large. I was worried at first; while Quatre told him the true story of where he'd been recently, the man got increasingly stern-looking and his coloring went darker and darker. I was afraid that I'd have to physically intervene since he looked like he was capable of breaking Quatre in half with two fingers.

I need not have worried, though. When the story was told, Rashid merely said something very loud and very fast in Arabic and then embraced Quatre tightly. I got the impression that he was upset that we had lied to him, but he was glad that Quatre was all right now. However, he's been sort of _looming_ over him ever since.

Duo woke us up about twenty minutes before we landed. He'd suggested that we eat and get suited up, and I was amused to see Rashid first practically force a ration bar into Quatre and then put him into his EVA suit like he was putting an infant into a sleeper. Granted, with Quatre's broken wrist he probably needed some help anyway, but their size difference and the paternal attitude Rashid was taking made it very hard for me not to laugh.

Once I'd gotten my own suit on (with no assistance, I'd like to add), we had touched down and were ready to disembark. I'd already heard that there were no signs of life coming from the sensors, but once I floated down from the shuttle and set foot on the magnetized floor of the landing bay, I was sure of that fact. It just _felt_ abandoned to me.

"Quat? Rashid? Which way do we go now?" Duo's voice came out a little too loudly in my right ear. I winced and touched the volume control at my wrist.

"The labs, perhaps?" Rashid boomed. I fiddled with the volume some more.

"There or the living quarters," Quatre added, and I could barely hear him. Once more with the volume control.

"The living quarters are on the opposite end of the satellite," said Heero in a normal tone of voice. Finally. "Let's check the labs first."

"Right. Follow me closely." Rashid said, taking the point position automatically. None of us objected. If both the sensors and my intuition were wrong and there were hostile parties around, he was so huge that he would provide a perfect shield for the rest of us.

Not that I hoped that would happen, of course. I was beginning to admire the man.

The corridors in the satellite had been carved out of the rock with laser cutters, which left the walls as smooth as glass, and almost as reflective. The effect would have been quite aesthetically pleasing if there had been more light than what came from the headlamps on our suits, but as it was, it was merely disorienting. I felt myself growing nervous as we took lefts and rights seemingly at random. What was this place modeled on, a rabbit's warren?

"Uh, Rashid," Duo asked after a while. "You sure you know where you're going, big guy?"

"We're halfway to the labs right now, Master Duo." Rashid said smoothly. If he had any doubts, he was certainly keeping them out of his voice. "We're passing through the supply areas, hydroponics farms, and the power-generation facilities right now."

"Sounds like you know where you're going, then," Duo conceded.

I'd have taken that as an insult, but our guide merely chuckled. "I've had to find my way through these corridors many times during power failures before, Master Duo. I dare say I could do it blindfolded. Don't worry; I won't let anyone get lost."

I don't know about Duo, but I certainly felt better. I took a quick glance over my shoulder to see that Heero was still in his rear guard position—he was—and then kicked myself forward so that I was between Quatre and Duo. "What will we be looking for, exactly?" I asked.

"Anything with either Quatre's or Instructor H's name on it." Heero answered.

My heart fell. With a satellite of this size, that could take days. "Could you be more specific?"

"Charts, records, documents, files…anything on paper or on computer." Heero said shortly. I twisted my neck and saw that he was busy kicking himself off the walls to keep all of our vulnerable areas in range of the energy gun in his hand. 

As much as I admired his dedication to duty, I still fell annoyed with him as we slammed into Rashid's solid back when he stopped abruptly. If he even felt my weight crashing into him, he didn't let on.

"We're here," was all he said. He typed his personal code number into the control pad embedded in the wall and then ducked down to bring his right eye to the retinal scan. To my surprise, the door actually opened. We all filed inside, taking our customary positions against the inside wall to scan for enemies, and drew our sidearms. We need not have bothered. 

The place had been gutted.


	12. Chapter 12

Warnings for this section: Gore. December 28, AC 199 

I had expected that most of the valuable equipment aboard the MO-III satellite would have been taken away before it was abandoned, but I hadn't expected that it would be stripped so thoroughly. The lab was almost bare. There were two stained and scarred tables left, a desk chair with a missing caster, one broken drill bit, and a certain amount of broken glass. Everything else had been carried away or flushed out into space.

"Fuck!" Duo said loudly. I think he spoke for all of us.

"Put a sock in it, Maxwell," Wufei snapped. I resisted the urge to kick him, but only because it would have sent me bouncing off the walls awkwardly.

Quatre drifted out into the center of the hexagonal room. He used his thruster jet to turn around in a complete circle, and then he came back to the group. Surprisingly, given his recent moods, he didn't look as grim as the rest of us. "All right, so there's nothing here, but let's not give up yet. We still have the living quarters to search."

"How many individual quarters are there, Rashid?" I asked.

"One hundred and forty-seven, if I remember correctly, Master Heero."

That was good to hear. On a satellite of this size, I might have expected many more. "I believe it's safe for us to split up for this part of the search. Between the five of us, if we each take five minutes to search each room, we can be finished in a little less than two and a half hours."

Quatre drifted over to my side. "We all have locator units that you can activate by pressing the orange button on your wrist units." He held up his arm to demonstrate. "I'd feel better if we all activated them now before we split up. That way, we can all monitor each other. If for some reason any you can't maintain voice contact and you need to alert the rest of us, press the red button. It will set off a personal alarm and let the others know where you are. There's a common area in the center of the living quarters that we can use as a rendezvous point, so let's plan on meeting there in two and a half hours. After that, we can…Duo, why are you looking at me like that?"

I glanced over at my partner. Even through the tint on his visor, his grin was nearly blinding in its intensity. His eyes, although a little teary, were shining brightly. His whole face nearly radiated joy. It would probably take wild horses to drag the admission out of me verbally, but Duo looks absolutely amazing when he's really happy. In spite of the bad air on the satellite and the company we were in, I wanted to get him out of his suit and into mine in the worst possible way.

"Why am I looking at you like that?" He repeated with a laugh. "Quatre, baby, do you realize that you just went into command mode?"

Until Duo said that, I hadn't realized it myself. I hadn't heard that confident, reasonable tone of voice coming from him since…well, since the wars, I suppose. I checked the rest of my comrades and saw that Rashid was grinning proudly, Wufei was smiling in a satisfied sort of way, and Quatre himself looked a little embarrassed.

"I, uh, I guess I did." I heard him swallow hard. "I'm sorry."

"Sorry? SORRY?!" Duo jetted over to him and squeezed him so hard that I heard a few vertebrae pop. "My little brother's come back and he says he's SORRY? Q, you are unbelievable!"

I felt like laughing. That's my Duo—he never does anything halfway. May he never change.

Wufei coughed to get their attention. "I hate to break up this happy little reunion, but we have work to do. Our air supply is not infinite. Shall we get going, gentlemen?"

"I'll lead the way," Rashid said, and we all filed out of the stripped lab area after him.

December 29, AC 199 

I forgot to set my watch when we left Earth, so I had to ask Heero what time it was locally. It turns out that it's just after midnight, so I'm going to sit down and do my log things right now while I have a few minutes to spare.

Thing one: We arrived at MO-III safely due to my outstanding piloting skills.

Thing two: Heero looks really hot in an EVA suit.

Thing three: We decided to check the lab areas and the living quarters for anything that has to do with either Q-babe or Instructor H, but the whole lab area was a complete bust. We're checking the living quarters right now. I'm pretty fast at this sort of thing, which is why I have a few minutes.

Thing four: QUATRE WENT INTO COMMAND MODE! He kinda went back into his shell afterwards, but oh my FREAKING God, it was good to hear him do that!

Thing five: Heero looks really, _really_ hot in an EVA suit.

Thing six: I think I just found Instructor H's quarters. I'm going to check it out while the others catch up to me.

December 29, AC 199 

Ever since we set foot on the satellite, I had a strange feeling about the place. Have you ever walked into a familiar room and felt that something had been added to it, or removed from it, or maybe just moved around, but you couldn't quite figure out what it was? It was like that. Of course the place to had been stripped of anything useful before it had been abandoned; that was standard procedure and I had expected it. But I still felt that if we looked carefully enough, we would find that one little thing that was out of place.

Rashid wanted to check the labs first, which was a logical place to begin. The labs had been the main center of activity when the satellite was operational, and I remembered the place as being a crowded and noisy place, pretty much packed wall to wall and floor to ceiling with engineers, technicians and their projects. It was odd to see that huge room looking so empty. I had to go out into the middle of it and look around before I could believe that it was really abandoned.

I wanted to check the living quarters also. My flight training may have taken place in the simulators in the back of the labs, but my real education took place in those small suites where I was tutored by the engineers, the mathematicians, and the technicians who made this satellite their home. It had never occurred to me then that my efforts at keeping up with my education might be for nothing, that I might not survive the war.

There was an embarrassing little incident as we split up to search the rooms—I went into what Duo calls 'command mode'. I didn't even realize I was doing it until Duo said something about it and then just about crushed me in a bear hug. It felt good, even though my ribs are still sore from it.

After that, we split up the rooms and started to search. Each suite was set up pretty much the same: A living area with a view screen on a desk, a few chairs, and some bookshelves; a bedroom area with more shelves and a sleeping platform partitioned off from the living area by an ornamental wall; a shower and toilet crammed into a tiny room off the bedroom. There was also a small kitchen unit built into the wall of the living area with a knee-high refrigerator, a microwave oven, a water dispenser and a cabinet. All of the furniture was bolted down or built in, of course. Even though it had never happened during my stay, the spinners that generated the 'gravity' on the satellite could have malfunctioned and it wouldn't have been pretty if loose furniture had been allowed to float around the suites.

Heero had allotted us five minutes for each suite, but that turned out to be more than adequate given the efficient layout. The rooms had been gutted as thoroughly as the labs. There wasn't much to find. I think my best loot came to one bishop from someone's chess set, a really ugly pair of yellow knit socks, a cloisonné barrette with a broken clasp, a set of dentures (uppers), and three pens. That was it. There were no revealing diaries, no cryptically-labelled data discs, no big signs written in dripping blood reading: QUATRE, LOOK HERE TO REVEAL YOUR DESTINY, nothing. And yet I still had that strange feeling that there was something here.

I was right after all, but was Duo who found it. I noticed the blue light pulsing on my wrist unit while I was working on my seventh room, indicating a request for a private channel, and I pressed it. "Quatre here." I said out of habit.

"Quatre, it's Duo. You didn't find anything, did you?" Duo's voice was shaking.

"No, did you?"

"Oh boy…yeah, I think I did." I heard him swallow. "Q, I don't know if I should be asking you this, but I think I need you to come here and identify a body for me."

In spite of the heating units built into my EVA suit, I felt cold. My skin suddenly felt two sizes too small as it contracted into goose bumps. "Okay. Where is it?"

"LQ-130."

"Roger. I'm on my way." I said in a voice that sounded (to me, anyway) steadier than I felt.

It took me about two minutes to kick and jet my way to the room labeled LQ-130, and I fortunately didn't run into any of the others on my way there. They would have stopped me. Not that I blame them—the way I'd been acting lately, I'd have stopped _myself_ from going to a room with a known corpse in it.

However, Duo has always trusted me no matter how much of a jerk I might be sometimes, and he met me in the corridor outside of LQ-130 with a wave. "Heya, Q-babe. Nice to see a friendly face," he said cheerfully, but there was still a tremor in his voice and his eyes were showing the whites all around.

"Are you all right?" I asked.

"Magnificent. Terrific. Drop-dead sexy and proud of it. Hey, that almost rhymed!"

In spite of everything, I grinned. It felt strange on my face. "Cute, Duo, but didn't you say something earlier about a dead body?"

His joking smile faded. "Yeah. It's in there." He hooked a thumb over his finger to indicate the door to LQ-130. "I figured you'd know better than anyone if it's who I think it is." He grabbed my bad wrist with surprising force before I could key my way in. "It's pretty bad, Q. If you're not feeling…um…entirely stable, then don't go in."

I reset my codebreaker. "Thank you for your concern, Duo, but I'll be all right."

"Promise?"

"I promise. Could you let go of me, please? That's my broken arm."

I almost laughed at the expression on Duo's face just then, but my codebreaker was blinking and I only had a second to open the door before it slid shut again. I kicked myself in.

The suite was pretty much the same as all the others. Kitchen to the right, bedroom to the left. The only difference was the EVA-suited body floating in the middle of it. I kicked gently off the wall and floated up to see its face.

Behind the shattered visor, I saw the half-decomposed face. The environmental controls of the satellite must have been shut down near the same time as the death since it had decomposed only slightly before the freezing temperatures had mummified it. 

The eyes were open wide and opaque with death and ice, but I imagined I could still see the small olive-green irises. The skin of his face was black with congealed blood and bloated with what bacteria had managed to survive before the freezing temperatures had set in, but I could still see the outline of the face. The mouth was grinning in a death-rictus, a grin that was almost the same as the grin the man had habitually worn around me.

Most telling of all, I saw the sharp black mustaches pointing out sharply from either side of the corpse's upper lip. 

I turned away and pressed the blue button on my wrist. "Duo?" I felt ashamed at the weakness that had come into my voice.

"Yeah, little buddy?" The voice was as warm and as strengthening as a shot of brandy.

I took a breath, wanting to be calm as I said this: "I can positively identify the body as Instructor H. Please call the others."


	13. Chapter 13

Warnings for this section: I've taken some liberties with series timelines and plot (*gasp* GW had a PLOT?!). Gore. Un-beta'd. All mistakes are mine.  
  
December 29, AC 199  
  
The alarm sounded at 0147. I remember that because I was checking my chronometer at the time and re-calculating how much time we actually needed to search each of the living quarters. And since I was looking at my wrist unit anyway when the alarm went off, I immediately saw who had set it off and where he was.   
  
Duo.  
  
I think my heart stopped for a moment, but I am first and foremost a soldier and I would not let any of my more foolish emotions get in the way of my duty. At least, that's what I told myself at the time. It was only later that I was forced to admit that I very nearly panicked when I saw who had set the alarm.  
  
I jetted myself out of the room and collided with Wufei in the corridor. He had been checking the room opposite mine and had obviously propelled himself out of it with as much force as I had. Our shoulders slammed together as we met in the middle and we bounced off each other and the walls for a while before we were able to right ourselves--in any other situation, it might have been humorous. But at the time, I was only angry because it was causing a delay.  
  
Rashid was already there when we arrived at the spot where the alarm had been set off. He had one hand on Duo's shoulder and the other on Quatre's, and he was obviously trying to listen to both of them speak at once.   
  
"Gentlemen, use the team channel, please." Wufei said.  
  
The team com line clicked open and I was suddenly assaulted by voices. I heard something about a dead body, and a gun, and a recording device, but Duo and Quatre were talking over each other so quickly that I could not understand.  
  
Finally Rashid bellowed, "Quiet!" in a voice that hurt my ears. Behind his visor, I could see that he was frowning sternly, but that was more for Duo and Quatre's benefit than anything else. Rashid isn't the kind of person who loses his temper. He turned to my partner and continued in a more reasonable tone, "Master Duo, tell us what you found."  
  
Duo glanced at me. His eyes were wide and showed the whites all around, reminding me of a terrified rabbit. "There's a body in that room. It looks like there's a bullet wound to the head, but I didn't really check it that thoroughly. It looks like it decomposed for a while before the environmental controls went kaput, but Q identified it."  
  
"It's Instructor H." Quatre said simply.  
  
Duo nodded. "Yeah, it's old pointy-whiskers himself. I thought it might be, but the body is kinda gooshy-"  
  
"All right, we get the point, Maxwell." Wufei snapped. "What else did you find?"  
  
"This." Quatre held up the small metal box in his hands. It was a standard audio-visual recording device about the size of a deck of playing cards. "It looks like the data area is almost full. I found it on a table by the body." He almost stuttered out that last word. "It seems to be undamaged, so we could probably play it back on the shuttle."  
  
"Let's go then," Wufei said, but I could not leave yet.  
  
"No. Wait." I pressed my codebreaker to the keypad on the door. "I need to take a look."  
  
"Heero, that isn't really necessary." Quatre put a hand on my arm to stop me.  
  
Duo agreed. "All you are going to find in there is a dead body with a couple of extra holes in its head and a gun. It's pretty obvious how he died."  
  
I pressed my faceplate to his briefly. I hoped that it conveyed the emotions of gratitude and affection that I wished to express. "I know, Duo, but I still have to look. I won't take long."  
  
His sigh was loud in our ears. "I know you do, babe. Go on, do what you have to do."  
  
My codebreaker went off and flashed green to let me know I was in, so I kicked myself toward the door.  
  
Duo and Quatre were right; I need not have bothered. Although I had only met Instructor H once or twice, his wasn't a face that was easy to forget, even in death. The chances of two people having that same face were...well, disturbing. The cause of death was also pretty obvious. There was an entry wound in the Instructor's helmet at the right ear and an exit wound just above the left ear. I looked at the floor and saw a fan-shaped spray of old, dried blood and pale grey brain tissue there.   
  
I flicked on my personal recorder to make a report. "I'm confirming the death of the man known as Instructor H, found aboard the abandoned resource satellite MO-III on 29 December, AC 199. Time of death: Unknown. Cause of death: Beam gun blast through the head, most likely self-inflicted. The beam gun is still in the corpse's right hand. I'm taking it with me as evidence. Yuy out."  
  
What a waste.  
December 29, AC 199  
  
According to Quatre, there were three communications relay stations between the MO-III satellite and the Earth. There would be no problem sending the transmission home to Trowa, in other words. I felt it was important that he see this at the same time we did.  
  
When I contacted him it was a few hours before dawn local time, but my Trowa was awake and dressed regardless. The steam from a freshly-made cup of coffee obscured his face on the view screen. All he said was, "I had a feeling you would find something today, so I waited up."  
  
I almost smiled at that. The intuition levels among us five had certainly been running high as of late. "And Catherine?" I asked.  
  
He shook his head. "Sleeping."  
  
I felt relieved. "Good. This may be...upsetting." I nodded at Heero. We were all as ready as we were going to get. He hit the playback switch.  
  
~-~-~-~-~  
  
//Begin transmission.//   
  
Instructor H appears on the view screen from the shoulders up. The overhead lights reflect off the visor of his faceplate and partially obscure his features, but it is unmistakably him. He makes a small adjustment to the recording device, then gives a satisfied nod and begins to speak.  
  
"The fates of many lie in the hands of a few. That's the way it has always been. In this case most of humanity will recognize the key players in the latest round of human conflict: Treize Kushrenada, Colonel Une, the Peacecrafts, Quinze. Very few know of the players behind the scenes, though, and again, that's how it has always been.  
  
"The Gundams were our secret weapons. They were built to be machines of war meant to stop a war." He pauses and chuckles, eyes closing and mustache quivering. "I wonder how many people felt the irony of that statement as deeply as we did? As G so crudely but aptly put it, 'fighting for peace is like fucking for virginity.'" Again, he chuckles, but when he opens his eyes this time, they are full of tears. "I'm an old man, possibly a foolish man, and very much a remorseful man. I am not proud of what I've done. I'm not so sorry for having build Sandrock, but I am very sorry for the secret weapon within the secret weapon."  
  
He pauses to get his emotions under control.  
  
"When I made the suggestion to my colleagues about the control chip, they were appalled. Master O went so far as to call me a monster, which is probably a well-deserved epithet considering what I had done. They argued that their protégées were quite capable of piloting their suits without further augmentation, and besides, it was inhumane and unnecessarily cruel to tamper with their minds like that. The boys would have a difficult enough time adjusting to a normal life as it was." He sighs. "I agreed. I did it anyway.  
  
"At the time, I rationalized it by telling myself that my boy was too idealistic and kind-hearted to make a good soldier. How could he possibly work up the murderous hatred necessary to fight for our cause? It is only now, years later, that I can admit the truth: pilot 04 was a good soldier _because_ of those qualities, not _in spite_ of them. He fought because he loved the Colonies and he loved the Earth and he loved humanity in spite of all of our ugly flaws--and love is always a stronger motivator than hate."  
  
The recording shuts off abruptly, but starts up again almost immediately. Some time seems to have passed.  
  
"I really am a foolish old man. He must be dead by now or he will be soon, so there's no need for me to be so discreet about my protégé's identity. His name was Quatre Reberba Winner, heir to the Winner fortune, and son of the famous pacifist Ibraham Winner. I am the one who killed them both.  
  
"Oh, I did nothing so dramatic as hold a gun to their heads, but I killed them all the same.   
  
Instructor H gets up from his seat and begins to pace the room, moving in and out of the frame.  
  
"Master Winner was my first casualty. Anyone watching this transmission must be puzzled by now, because it certainly looked as though OZ-friendly colonists killed the man in a riot...but I was the one who instigated the riots. It was necessary. You see, since the Winner-owned natural resource satellites provided plenty of food, water, and mineral resources to the Colonies, the colonists themselves began to feel that they were completely independent of the Earth, and it was causing a rift between the two factions. I needed to do something to jar the colonists back to their senses, and causing a disruption amid the most powerful company to provide resources seemed to be the logical way to do it.  
  
"I have to admit that it worked quite well. Spectacularly, even. Within a month, the prices of food, water, and raw materials had risen so drastically amid the colonies that nearly ten percent of the population immigrated back to Earth." Instructor H's habitual grin broadens sickeningly. "The economy was in a complete shambles soon after, and the L3 cluster was very nearly abandoned altogether, if you will recall.  
  
"Fortunately for the remaining colonists, my boy stepped in and temporarily took over Winner Enterprises--anonymously, of course--and that took care of that little glitch. And that was when I realized that my carefully crafted plan wasn't going as perfectly as I'd thought.  
  
"As it turned out, he actually _cared_. I hadn't planned for that.  
  
"My boy actually cared how the people of the Colonies were faring, and he did his best to stabilize the economy. He organized rebuilding teams, hired manual and skilled labor, and re-established trade between the Colonies. He even worked out trade routes between the Earth and the Colonies.  
  
"What he didn't know, however, was that I was also in communication with Mr. Kushrenada, Mr. Merquise, and that incompetent Quinze fellow to wrong the rights that my boy had worked so hard for. I very cleverly--and, God forgive me--deviously played each side against each other to ensure that the Earth as a whole and as a collective of nations would resent the Colonies...and that the Colonies as a whole and as separate entities would resent the Earth.  
  
"I was...I was also the one who worked with Tsuberov to build the Libra." He bows his head as if in shame, but when he raises it again, there is an unmistakable smirk of pride on his face. "The beam cannon on the Wing ZERO was just too good a feat of engineering--I couldn't just let it go to waste. Imagine my utter thrill when Merquise used the thing to blow away half of the Pacific islands! I though for sure that that little stunt would make the people pause and reconsider what the stakes of this war actually were.  
  
"Unfortunately, I underestimated the general stupidity of human kind, and the war went on. I was in despair. My boy's control chip was by now in its 'peacetime' phase, and he was no longer the Trojan horse I had meant for him to be. His empathy was returning to its normal state; no longer hyper responsive or completely repressed, he was ready to return to the public eye as the Winner heir. His sense of diplomacy and strategy were being enhanced at the same time, ostensibly to help him use his newfound position for the establishment of a lasting peace.  
  
"Instead of that, though, my boy was plunged even deeper into war. Instead of being a leader of the Colonies, he became a leader of the deadliest group of soldiers the world has ever seen. Instead of helping to bring things into balance, he helped to bring victory to what he considered 'his' side. Instead of setting me free, he almost destroyed me.  
  
"Almost, I say. You see, I built the Libra with the foreknowledge that she would eventually be destroyed, so I stayed one step ahead and built her to be able to split into five sections with ease. Each section had its own shielded control station, from which the rest of her could be either disintegrated or maneuvered according to need." He giggles in almost childish delight. "I am a clever bastard, am I not? Actually, that was Tsuberov's addition. He wanted to be able to get away in case anything...unplanned happened."  
  
He rubs his gloved hands together as if he is cold. "Unplanned. Yes, that explains his death. He had plans and ambitions that exceeded my scope. He was perfectly willing to sacrifice pilots 02 and 05 to achieve his plans." He shakes his head. "But I wasn't. I informed Une of those plans, and she finally saw reason. I am forever in her debt for saving them, and I will forever carry the pain of her sacrifice. I am accountable for her as well as..."  
  
The transmission blinks out again. When it comes back on, Instructor H is grinning again.  
  
"Pilot 02 saved us without knowing it. I'm sure he thought he was delivering us to our death when he took us to the Libra and deposited us on Section E, rather than Section S. That little maneuver allowed us to remain relatively safe while we created enough of a distraction to let the boys do their jobs...it was what they were trained for, after all."  
  
He laughs for a moment, but it's a sad laugh.  
  
"We never figured on a second war. I should have seen it coming. The fact that my boy played his part in the entire nasty business without a hitch is a testament to how badly I orchestrated the whole thing. He was supposed to be the peaceful diplomat, much like the Peacecraft girl, but he went his own route and resurrected the Gundams, and to fight the last battle. But he was already beginning to die by then.  
  
"The last parts of the control chip were designed to systematically shut down Quatre's brain. He was no longer needed, I originally thought, but I needed for him to die before he was too horribly tainted by the war, but after he had restored peace. There would be no chance for him to reach Heaven if he had had to live with that blemish on his soul, and I could not possibly deny him that.  
  
"I couldn't take away his kindness and sincerity, although this may have been a crueler destiny than Operation Meteor." He reaches for the recording device as if to switch it off, but he stops abruptly. Instead, he gives a sharklike grin and reaches instead for something out of view. It turns out to be a beam gun. He holds the muzzle of the gun to his ear, and before he pulls the trigger, he voicelessly mouths a single phrase.  
  
//End Transmission//  
  
~-~-~-~-~-~-  
  
Later on, lip-reading experts agree unanimously on the good instructor's last, unvoiced words: _I will see you in Heaven, my boy_. 


	14. Chapter 14

_December 29, AC 199_

I can't tell you what I was feeling after I'd seen and heard what amounted to Instructor H's last will and testament. I could say I felt nothing at all, but that was a lie; I felt plenty. I just couldn't deal with the loads of emotions I was experiencing at the time.

Judging by what I saw over the vidphone after the recording had shut off, though, neither could the others. They all just sat there staring at the playback screen as if they expected H to pop up again, grinning, and tell them it was all a joke. I did too, to tell the truth.

After about a minute of sitting around like statues, I saw Duo made the first move. He reached out toward Quatre, probably intending to hug him, but then Quatre suddenly put his helmet back on and grabbed something out of Heero's hand, moving almost too quickly to see. Things got a little noisy then.

"Master Quatre, what do you think you're doing?"

"Winner, put that down! NOW!"

"Q, get your crazy ass back here!"

"Quatre, don't make me break your other arm."

They were all yelling over each other, but time seemed to have slowed down and I can still remember what each of them said and can still see how they all scrambled to get their helmets on and prepare to follow Quatre out of the shuttle. I finally found my voice. 

"Guys, what's going on?" Not the most intelligent or profound statement, to be sure, but I was very tired and very confused…and very worried.

Wufei heard me and turned around to face the transmission camera. "Quatre took the beam gun that we found on H's body and he is exiting the shuttle." His voice sounded calm, but I could tell by his breathing and the wild look in his eye that he was just as confused and scared as I was.

I said, "He wouldn't…would he? I thought he was better?"

"I thought so too, my own, but obviously a lot has happened and—" 

I waved a hand at him. "I know, I know. You have to go help him. Just leave the line open, okay?"

He nodded at me. "I'll patch you in on the team com line. You can listen in. I have to go now, but I'll be back as soon as I can."

"Understood." I said, but that was more out of habit than anything else. I hoped, I feared, and I guessed, but I didn't understand.

It went to show you how distracted I was that I didn't even notice my sister had entered the room until she stole the coffee cup from my hands. "What's going on, Trowa? I heard raised voices."

"You'll probably be hearing a lot more." I told her. I patted the seat next to me in an invitation to sit down. "Just watch with me and I'll explain everything later."

She sat down next to me, sipping my coffee, and rested her head on my shoulder. Mercifully, Cathy is not very talkative at four o'clock in the morning. Thank God for small favors.

_December 29, AC 199_

I had wasted precious seconds telling Trowa what was going on after Quatre grabbed the gun and bolted, but I didn't really have a choice. If you have ever seen Trowa really worried before, you would stop to explain things too, even if you were standing in the middle of a burning building with six sticks of dynamite in your shorts. He's a worrier of Olympic standards.

However, as a consequence of that I was trailing behind everyone else and I had nothing but my locator device to tell me where they were, which was no help in the maze of dark corridors. It was of no use to me to know that Rashid, for example, was ahead of me and to my left if I didn't know exactly what turns he had taken. Not knowing what else to do, I said, "I'm lost in corridor JJ-719. I'm staying put. Chang out."

I don't think anyone but Trowa heard me. The rest of them were yelling at Quatre--ordering him to stop, to come back, threatening various parts of his anatomy with grievous harm, cursing his ancestry, his personal hygiene and his probable mental status--and Quatre himself was eerily silent except for his harsh breathing. All that was alarming enough, but it was even more alarming when the shouting stopped and the shooting started. I counted five or six blasts of the gun before it stopped. After that, the shouting never resumed.

I was beginning to think the worst when Duo finally broke the silence. "Quatre," he said in a voice that sounded a little sick, "that was _totally_ gross."

"Then don't look." Quatre replied in an oddly reasonable tone. I heard a door sliding closed. "Wufei, what section did you say you were lost in?"

I told him, and a few minutes later the four of them came drifting by with Rashid in the lead. He, Duo and Heero looked grim. Quatre looked calm, but he was covered head to foot in something resembling overcooked oatmeal; it was grey, slimy, and very lumpy. 

As we made our way back to the shuttle, I grabbed Heero's arm. "I might not want to know the answer to this, Heero," I said, "but what is that stuff all over Quatre?"

He didn't look at me. "Instructor H."

We made Quatre change in the airlock.

_December 30, AC 199_

It's a damn good thing Wufei volunteered to pilot us back to Earth. What with the long trip to the satellite, the icky events that happened there, and the fact that I was in the head throwing up for an hour after we got back, I was in no condition to pilot a tricycle, let alone Rashid's shuttle.

Luckily, Heero was in a pretty cuddly mood. I guess he was freaked out a bit too, although he would never admit to such a thing. He let me come snuggle with him in one of the small, private berths after we had taken off, and we would have done a whole lot more than snuggle if said berth didn't belong to a seven foot tall Maguanac with an overly-developed protective instinct toward a certain blond friend of ours.

Speaking of Quatre, he seemed to be far less affected by the whole thing than any of the rest of us. You'd think that after he'd discovered that he'd been a pawn in some crazy man's idea of war, had his mind tampered with, been driven to the edge of suicide, and then done the Mashed Potato all over the corpse of the man who was supposed to be his mentor that he would have at least been a _little_ upset, but he wasn't.

When I asked him about it, all he said was, "it's really over now," and then he'd curled up to sleep. I love the guy, I really do, but he confuses the hell out of me.

Anyway, all of us made it back to Earth in one piece, obviously. Trowa and Cathy met us at the port. Cathy was looking hot in one of her little crop-tops and a pair of shorts, and I held out my arms to get a big ol' hug from her. She doesn't really hate me, you know. She just doesn't fully appreciate my sense of humor.

So there I was, holding my arms out, hoping to get a nice big handful of Trowa's sexy sister, and do you know what happened? She ran right past me! She ran past Duo Maxwell, the Adonis-like icon of lovable sexiness, and she didn't even look at me! She just left me there with my arms out in front of me like Frankenstein's monster! Talk about embarrassing.

Luckily Trowa came to my rescue. He took my right hand and gave it a shake. "Nice to see you're all back safe, Duo," he said, but I could tell he was trying hard not to smirk. That bastard. I'm going to get him.

I looked over my shoulder to see who Catherine had been running toward and I was not entirely unsurprised to find that she was pressed up against Quatre and crying on his shoulder. He was holding her and stroking her hair and talking to her and doing all that comfort stuff, and she was sobbing her little heart out. The poor girl was nearly hysterical. "Jeez, Trowa, what did you tell her?"

"Everything."

"Well, couldn't you have toned it down a little? She's crying!" And she was, too. It's a good thing Quatre's had a lot of experience with emotional females. If it had been me, I'd have broken down and started bawling right along with her. 

Yes, I cry sometimes. Fuck you.

"It'll be all right, Duo." Trowa said in that ever-so-calm voice of his that make me want to smack him sometimes. "She just needs to get it out of her system." And then he smiled, weirdo that he is.

Christ. Why can't I have _normal_ friends?

_December 31, AC 199_

I was glad to see my own bed again. I think we all were. Of course, Duo is normally very happy to see our bed, but this time he only wanted it for sleeping. Similarly, Wufei seemed all too willing to have Trowa drag him off to their room. Catherine and Quatre, however, each insisted that the other take Quatre's room, and they had a long argument over who would take the bed and who would sleep on the couch. Duo found that amusing. I found it tedious.

According to the calendar, today is New Year's Day. I don't know if that accounts for everyone's strange behavior or if it's a result of emotional strain. I certainly don't feel any different, but then these things don't particularly affect me. 

To be more specific, both Duo and Wufei seem to be in on some huge, unspoken joke. Of course, that's not exactly abnormal in Duo's case, but it is a bit disconcerting to watch Wufei trying to hide his laughter behind his hand. 

I'd say that Catherine and Quatre were acting weird too, but they disappeared shortly after breakfast so I can't confirm my initial observations. They didn't seem to be very well-rested and they were both abnormally quiet, but they were both grinning almost as much as Duo was.

Even Trowa has been walking around all day with a smile on his face and a rather glazed look in his eye. He looks suspiciously like that time he accidentally ate a couple of Howard's marijuana brownies. When I tried to check his pupils, though, he just laughed it off and explained that he was feeling happy. Whatever. 

I wonder if it has anything to do with the fact that Catherine and Quatre decided that Quatre's bed was big enough for both of them last night?

~-~-~-~-~-~-~-END JOURNAL~-~-~-~-~-~-~-

It is half an hour till midnight. On the roof of a rambling white beach house just south of a small town on the Pacific coast, a skylight opens, and six young people climb out of it bearing blankets, bags of delicacies, and one large picnic basket. They are noisy and rambunctious, and if anyone had been on the private beach below them, they would have heard much laughter, friendly name-calling, excited chatter, and snatches of spontaneous song.

After several minutes of this, the young people settle into three pairs and turn their attention to a barge floating in the shelter of the bay to their north. A sudden hush falls over them, but it is broken by a loud cheer as the first of the fireworks is set off. The display is spectacular. Their awed, happy faces are lit up silver, gold, red, yellow, green and violet as the sky above them bursts into fantastic color. (One of the young men begins a lecture on the ancient and venerable history of fireworks, but he quickly shuts up when he realizes that no one is listening to him.)

With only seconds to go till the new century begins, the pyrotechnic display culminates in a stunning climax that leaves our watchers breathless and laughing, and they burst into spontaneous applause. One of their number shouts over the noise: "Kiss! Kiss! Everyone kiss for good luck!"

They don't need to be told twice. Six pairs of lips meet with varying degrees of enthusiasm, tenderness and passion, and they each privately think that their kiss is more spectacular and exciting than any fireworks display could ever hope to be.

May the New Year bring them all the luck in the world.

~-~-~-~-~-~-~-END ~-~-~-~-~-~-~-


End file.
